I'm sorry Buddy
by Rhodanthe-Roseora
Summary: Even when the loop was finally broken, one thing stayed the same. Buddy Boris hadn't been saved, and Henry couldn't fix anything without his handyman.


I'm Sorry Buddy- Chapter 1, Escapism

* * *

"Happy INKscape day Henry!" Allison chuckled at her own pun as she enthusiastically thrust the plate of cake towards him.

Giving the cake a sideways glance, Henry could see the rainbow colours of the icing melding together into a dark brown goop, dripping slowly down the brown, crusted and flaking edges of the charred 'cake. Looking up with a forced smile, he noticed Tom giving him a smug look.

"I'm full, but thankyou-'

"But it's so much better than bacon soup!" Alice insisted, attempting once again to plant the inky mess into Henrys hands before noticing the wrapped parcel he was carrying, her eyes scanning him slowly to see his polished shoes and freshly ironed coat.

"Where are ya off to looking so fancy?" She asked.

"I'm going to see.. Sammy.." he answered hesitantly, as is internally debating the wiseness of the idea still. " I think Tom looks hungry though." he nodded with a smirk towards the silent wolf as he quikly stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath.

* * *

"You would want this, wouldn't you Buddy?" Henry mouthed to himself, meeting the warm and gentle faded polaroid eyes of his best friend. Stepping past the wall of cameras without so much as a tilt of the head, the shouting cacophany of voices felt as distant as the memories of Boris.

He wanted nothing to do with the press, the publicity; a constant barrage of questions wanting him to relay the most painful and terrifying times of his life, to relay every detail of the retrospectively abusive relationship of Joey Drew and the employees at the old studio.

Hearing the clunk of the train doors closing snapped him out of his daydream of memories as he glanced up at the building in front of him just metres away.

It took several deep breaths before Henry could bring himself to step into the dimly lit office as he made eye contact immediately with the secretary.

"How can I help you sir?" She said enthusiastically, making a dismissing gesture towards the man of short stature holding camera equipment.

"I'm here to see Sammy Lawrence.. I'm Henry Stein. A... friend."

She pursed her lips as she flicked through a few pages of unreadably scrawled writing, before grabbing a pen.

"Sign right here and go right ahead!" She sang, the joy in her voice unmissable as the monotony from rejecting journalists was broken by the entrance of a legitimate visitor.

Henry mouthed a quick thankyou as he stepped through the heavy doors of the pharmaceutical-smelling building, the unmistakable stench of stagnating ink breaking through. Of course the first door on the left would be Sammy's room; a thin trickle of black oozed out from under the door, and the searing image of that detestable smile mounted on cardboard stood at the window- receiving an eyeroll from Henry.

"Sammy? Are you in?" He asked with a knock, trying not to glare at the Bendy cutout facing the small door window, and stifling a gasp as another popped up from below.

"Sheep, sheep, sheep, they always follow their shepherd..." came the confusing mumbles from behind the door as Henry reached for the handle figuring Sammy wasn't going to take any initiative in this situation.

He could feel Sammys gaze upon him as he entered the room, holding out the gift as he gingerly took a seat at the desk, doing his best to ignore the ice cold ink seeping through his clothes.

"It's been a year since we got out of there." Henry said softly, trying to make eye contact with the masked ink figure.

"How long till I get out of here now?" came a slow reply followed by a tense pause, only the ticking of the clock breaking the silence.

It was best not to look around the room, to keep trying to make eye contact. The multiple pie-cut eyes of cardboard cutouts was an even scarier glare, making the room feel all the smaller and darker.

Henry breathed out slowly, ripping the paper open to show Sammy the contents. "I thought you might like some nicer candles." he said gently, pulling out the first one to look at the label.

"Oh, pineapple scented.." he remarked as he held it out once more in hopes of Sammy showing some reception, but eventually placing it down next to where Sammy sat on the ink encrusted bed.

"And lavender..." he added, holding another one with a forced smile, not unlike that of the cutouts all around.

There were no real smiles in this room.

"They might be a nice change from the smell of ink.."

This comment received a turn of the head from Sammy, meeting Henry's eyes.

"I like the smell of ink." he said dryly, "it will set you free, unlike the demon..."

Slightly confused, Henry let out a sigh before continuing.

"Sammy, I have no hard feelings about... that." he cautiously began, leaning forward to match Sammy's height. "I'm TRYING, to move past the studio. To make things right. You were a good colleague, that's how I see you, even now." sincerity seeping through his words. A moment of a warmer silence followed.

"Can you fix this?" Came a calm and simple request as Sammy dipped his head down and slipped off the wooden mask.

"Of course... what do you mean?"

"The Bendy I worship... the real one... YOU created him. Not this!" breathed Sammy, gesturing towards all the cutouts. "He was good... before that traitor..."

Henry's brow furrowed for a few seconds as he contemplated the request.

"...You want it to look like the first design..?"

Just a nod as a reply.

* * *

Nearly finished. Nearly... Henry's hands shook a little as he gripped the paintbrush tightly. This had been the most tense and awkward 20 minutes of his entire life; sitting quietly, painting the cutout as Sammy's ramblings became white noise accompanied by the ever slowing ticks of each second.

"It's done." Came the refreshing warmth of Henrys voice through the chilling quiet as he stood, admiring the sweeter smile of the dancing devil now etched on the clean wooden surface. Briskly slipping the cutout back over his smooth inky face, Sammy met Henry's gaze once again, thanking him merely with a nod.

"You don't have to wear that mask, you know. Why not have your own face...?" Henry pondered, picking up his coat as he stood to leave, but no reply was received.

"Well, goodbye.." He said with a smile, taking a step towards the door. "Stop." He felt a cold hand touch his shoulder, turning to face Sammy.

"Wolves will eat sheep. A wolf can devour an entire herd... but you..." Sammy mused, "a sheep and a wolf..." Henry nodded absentmindedly not wanting to think too hard about Sammys shakespearean rambling, but he perked to attention when a soft squeak was heard from the overall pocket, the inky hand slowly pulled out a familiar plush toy.

"Maybe you aren't a sheep, Henry." He added, a softness not heard before from the crazed songwriter as he placed the toy in his colleagues hands.

Choking back a slight tear at the reminder of hid old friend, Henry let a small smile grace his lips, the deep wrinkles around his eyes letting slip that this was the first true smile in this room for a long time.

"Thankyou." he said quietly, unsure how to answer to the gesture. He had underestimated Sammy as nothing more than an insane shell of his previous self, but it seemed a small part of the deeply thoughtful and poetic musician remained.

"I'll see if Joeys money can get you a bigger room, or a waterproof bed cover... And.. some ink scented candles.." he let out a chuckle as his loafer stepped off of the inky blackness to leave a stain on the pristine quartz of the hallway.


End file.
